


movement memory

by datetheplants



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Depression, M/M, burning out, dancer!ralbert, kid!newsies, ralbert, ralbert au, ralbert modern, ralbert modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datetheplants/pseuds/datetheplants
Summary: Albert used to feel sick at the thought of dancing again, like it would lock his joints but he would keep on moving anyway. Then, he’ll be back to the beginning and maybe he will never get to the end anymore because there wasn’t a straight finite line to begin with. Maybe life for him has always gone in circles and he wasn’t brave enough to break them.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	movement memory

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags, please.

Crutchie always talks about how a story can be a whole other world. Today, he used their little classroom as an example. They are all wearing pirate hats and other accessories they could salvage from the storage room. The kids tried to bring what they could sneak out of home even though Crutchie strongly advised that it was not necessarily needed last meeting. Because they were pirates today, the use of their nicknames is much stronger and significant.

Blink, Mush, Smalls, and Spot with Crutchie and Red. They are the pirates who separated from their crew and ran off with a ship of their own. Smalls is their new captain even though they all kind of expected it would Spot. He says that he likes being the sailing master more.

“Blink is first mate,” announced Smalls. “Choir master is Mush.”

“Quartermaster,” corrected Crutchie.

“Crutchie will be gunner,” continued on Smalls as she adjusted her hat. “Red will be the boat swan.”

“Boatswain,” Red corrected this time.

Then it became a whole other world.

They turned the lights down low, played a three-hour-loop of waves crashing over the speaker and arranged the tables and chairs into a circle. It’s made to look as if they are in the captain’s cabin or in some kind of a meeting room, orchestrating their next mission or planning to go into war. Either way, the kids all took their roles seriously, nodding solemnly at the reports of their losses and slamming their fists down on the table when they hear the word ‘revenge’.

A rather big wave crashed and if Red just closed his eyes for a moment, he could pretend that they really are far away from everyone. Crutchie has always been good with stories. Even when they were younger, he was the one who would whip out the flashlight and make the characters’ voices. Even then, they _were_ pirates, boatswains who sneaked away from their crew once they reached land. They were the legends among seafarers, the duo who always escaped the clutches of evil pirates and the ones who found the treasure chest buried in the island of monsters.

Crutchie and Red have now four additional members to their crew who proved their loyalty by submitting their favorite artworks.

But Red doesn’t close his eyes long enough to put him to sleep. The lights open and Spot, the sailing master, shouts “Land ho!” because it’s their version of “Class dismissed!”

Back to the real world, Crutchie is Charles Morris, a volunteer at the community center who teaches Louis Baletti (Blink), Michael Meyers (Mush), Samantha Davenport (Smalls) and Sean Conlon (Spot). Red goes by Albert DaSilva, an honorary teaching assistant. Together, they are the class which is almost like a book club but they spend more time acting out the stories the kids write.

The nicknames have somehow caught on around class that they use them more than their real names. It becomes a problem when other people are present. In Albert’s case, ‘Crutchie’ has always been used since they have been bestfriends starting from a young age. There was one incident where Albert was filling out a hospital form and he wrote down ‘Crutchie Morris’ as his emergency contact instead of ‘Charles Morris’.

_(“It’s so weird hearing a stranger call me ‘Crutchie’,” he said.)_

Their class is really for writing activities as a partnership event of the community center and the public library where Albert works. It’s basically where they encourage children to write. It could be a poem, a story, or even just a simple diary entry. They weren’t expecting for a lot of students to join (A mother had raised an eyebrow and said “My son can write with his computer just fine” which was really okay anyway) but they were still surprised when a few actually joined even though school is out and kids would probably prefer to spend their vacation doing other stuff.

Blink, Mush, Smalls, and Spot worked well with Crutchie. They matched one another’s energy and created a story worthy of being a novel almost every week.

Albert was not actually there to teach but Miss Medda, the directress of the library, asked him to visit the center from time to time until the occasional check-ups happened more frequently than intended. Albert found himself attending three days of writing classes every week.

The kids began to take off their accessories and toys and stored them in their little closet along with the supply of paper, pens, and crayons. Crutchie absolutely marvels at the abundance of them.

“Good work today, guys,” he said as he turned off the speaker.

“I’m going to research more about navigation,” spoke up Sean.

“I’ll study the ocean,” piped in Michael.

“Me too, me too!” exclaimed Louis.

Samantha grinned. “I’ll write a poem.”

Albert couldn’t help but smile and ruffle their hair as he moved around the room to clean up. The parents and guardians came by after a while to bring their children home. Samantha was the last one to be picked up by her brother.

“Buttons!” she said as she shot out from her seat.

Benjamin Davenport, a college student, has his own nickname as an honorary pirate and he has accepted it graciously, quite honored (absolutely moved) that his little sister was the one who picked out his name for him.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked as they hugged.

“Yeah,” answered Samantha. “I’m captain of the Firefly.”

“That sounds like a really cool ship, Captain Smalls.”

“Mush named it. He’s good at that.”

Benjamin ruffled her hair and glanced at Albert and Crutchie. “Thanks for today, guys.”

“No problem, man,” returned Albert.

“Yeah,” agreed Crutchie. “Today was great as always.”

After getting Samantha’s things, the siblings left and Albert and Crutchie soon followed after locking up the room and walking to the front desk.

“Do you want take-out tonight?” asked Albert.

“I thought you were going to cook,” said Crutchie.

“Yeah but then I thought that I could go for a really good meal that isn’t cooked by me.”

“You do have a point there, Al.”

“Hey.”

“You started it.”

They made it to the front desk and Crutchie gave back the key then signed on the logbook.

“You know,” spoke Katherine who managed the front desk. “One of your students came out with an eyepatch. He nodded at me like we were secret agents, signaling the start of an operation.”

That sounded like Louis.

“I hope you nodded back,” said Crutchie.

“What do you take me for? Of course, I did!”

Albert chanced a look at the nearest room and faintly heard the sound of music. It was something you would jump to if you completely forgo the choreography. Albert almost wants to take a look inside the dance studio and see how the class is doing. The community center has only just started to offer the dance classes last week and every time Albert passes by the room and hears the familiar chant of steps and the music booming through the speakers- well, it just makes him feel –

“Are you okay?” asked Crutchie.

He nods. “Yeah. Come on, let’s go.”

It makes him feel as if he should just continue to walk away. Because once upon a time, he was supposed to dance for life. He was supposed to be up on the stages or out in the streets. He could have been teaching. He might have continued to living the dream that was all he has ever known. Instead, Albert walked away. He does just that every single time he passes by the room where he could have been today.

* * *

“Hey.”

Albert looked up from his burger. “What?”

“You have been out of it since we left the center,” said Crutchie.

They decided against the takeout the last minute and ended up eating at ‘Jacobi’s’, a diner close to their apartment. There weren’t many customers so they easily found a table and ordered immediately.

“Sorry,” apologized Albert. “I think I’m just tired.”

He really _is_ tired, Albert thinks, but he and Crutchie both know that there’s something else. Of course, Albert would not acknowledge it out loud and Crutchie wouldn’t push him unless he has to. It is one of the things they have been doing since they were little.

This time, though, Crutchie, set down his chicken and pushed his plate away from him so he could put his arms on the table. Albert sighed at that.

Because he’s stubborn, he says, “I’m really just tired, Crutch.”

“Red,” said Crutchie. “On the Firefly, if one of the crew lies, they get thrown off the ship.”

“Isn’t that too violent for the classroom?” asked Albert, hoping to deflect successfully.

“We’re the senior pirates, Al. You and I went through a lot worse.”

“Make me walk the plank, at least.”

“We don’t really entertain dramatics on the Firefly, Red.”

“You live for the dramatics, Crutch.”

At that, Crutchie cracks a smile and Albert feels a little lighter. It is with that he decides to say the next words after a moment of comfortable silence.

“I was thinking of dancing.”

Crutchie looked at him for a few seconds, probably trying to read an emotion or two. Finally, he nods.

“I’m not talking of going back,” Albert continues. “But it just feels like I should.”

“You’ve been dancing since you were little,” said Crutchie. “I think you were bound to miss it.”

“It’s not like missing something.”

Crutchie knows. Albert has had many nights where he would toss and turn in his own bed and he would pad off to the next room, squeeze in next to Crutchie and feel a little less alone with his thoughts.

_(“Ever since I dropped it, it feels like I never really did. It keeps on hanging over my head and I don’t know what to do. Should I be guilty that I gave up? That I never pushed through it? I tried really hard, Crutch.”)_

“Do you want to try again?” asked Crutchie.

Albert used to feel sick at the thought of dancing again, like it would lock his joints but he would keep on moving anyway. Then, he’ll be back to the beginning and maybe he will never get to the end anymore because there wasn’t a straight finite line to begin with. Maybe life for him has always gone in circles and he wasn’t brave enough to break them.

“I don’t know.”

* * *

“Mr. DaSilva!”

He turned his head and saw Louis walking excitedly towards him. He raised his eyes and saw who must be the kid’s mother standing by her car and he smiled and nodded.

“What’s got you jumping today, Blink?” he asked after Louis’ mother left.

Louis tugged at the hem of Albert’s shirt as they began to walk inside the center. “I had a dream the kraken attacked our ship.”

“That must have been scary, Blink. Did we win?”

“That’s the thing, I didn’t get to the end. I think the kraken might come back…”

Louis continued to tell him about what happened in his dream, how it started up to where it got cut off. Albert listened intently and gave his own inputs. He checked in at the front desk, greeted Katherine and saw that Crutchie was there already because of his name on the logbook. They left the apartment together but had to separate since Albert has to go to the library first.

“You fell into the water,” Louis stated glumly. “It was bad. We thought we wouldn’t get you out.”

_“On the Firefly, if one of the crew lies, they get thrown off the ship.”_

Albert smiled. “I know how to swim so it’s okay.”

“But it was hard! The ocean was angry. The waves were going high up and trying to sink the ship. I think the kraken has special powers.”

They were nearing their room when Albert’s name got called and he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see one of the people working in the center but stopped short.

“You go on ahead, Blink,” he murmured to the kid.

“We’ll save you a seat,” said Louis.

Albert’s pretty sure that they have extra tables and chairs but he ruffles Louis’ hair and makes sure he gets inside their classroom. He momentarily heard Michael’s voice telling the other about punctuality.

He turns back to Antonio Higgins or “Race” short for “Racetrack” as he was known by most when they were in college. He looks… great. Great as anyone can look in a pair of sweatpants.

Apparently, Albert’s frozen on the spot that it was the other who moved and walked towards him. Albert had a thought that maybe Race assumed he didn’t remember him which is why the first thing he says is: “Race”.

That should erase doubts.

Race grins and pulls him in for a hug.

Strangely, Albert remembers him by this. Race has always been one for physical touch. He casually threw an arm over his classmate’s shoulders or linked arms with the others. He hugged his friends in greeting and leaned against them whether they were sitting, standing or walking. He gave pats on the back and created elaborate handshakes.

He’s still tall ( _It would be a miracle if he gets shorter_ , Albert thinks.). He’s still lean and before Albert was pulled in for the hug, he saw the familiar tufts of blond hair peeking out from under his beanie. Race still smiled in the same way, bright and genuine.

“It’s been so long since we saw each other,” he spoke as he pulled away.

“It must have been two years or something,” ventured Albert.

“How are you? What are you doing here?”

Albert makes the connection quickly. Classes are still ongoing in the dance studio and Race, a fellow graduate of the Performing Arts is in the community center.

“I’m helping out Crutchie,” he answered. “He’s teaching kids how to write.”

“That’s great!” remarked Race. “I haven’t seen him in a long time too.”

“Do you want to go inside? He’ll be happy to see you.”

“Probably later. I’m teaching a class too.”

He smiles at that. “I didn’t know you were the one teaching dance at the studio.”

At that, Race laughs lightly and scratches behind his ear. “Actually, I’m just helping out a friend as well.”

“I remember you being humble in college, Race.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone else then.”

He pulls out his phone from a pocket, unlocks it and hands it to Albert. “I’ll text you later when I can join in. We have to catch up.”

Albert nods and inputs his number. He was in the middle of typing it when he thought of putting in a fake one. He decided against it just as quickly. It was stupid. He handed the phone back.

“We’re always here in this room,” he said, gesturing behind him. “You can drop in anytime.”

“Of course,” nodded Race. “I’ll try to come by.”

Race smiled again and was about to add something. Albert noticed the hesitation but it was gone in an instant and he was being pulled into a hug again which he returned easier this time.

When Albert finally went inside the classroom, Sean was in the middle of saying something about following whales and how he wrote it in his journal. Crutchie was seated on the table – like all the English professors portrayed in films – and he glanced at Albert, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged in return.

* * *

**_Henry, Archivist_ **

_Meeting before lunch. Miss Medda says you don’t have to come if you’re still at the center._

Albert slips out of the classroom anyway and walks past the dance studio, straight out the center.

* * *

**_Unknown Number_ **

_just saw Crutchie. All the kids love him._

_hey. wondering where you went._

_Crutchie just told me you had to take care of something._

_see you around?_

_This is race btw hahahhah_

* * *

**_most likely to bail someone out_ **

_hey_

_just saw race_

_you know_

_from college_

_the one who danced to the super mario song for the annual stage show??_

_i told him you had to go because of something_

_i’m not bailing you out if you got arrested_

* * *

“Are you going back after this?” whispered Henry as the staff began to gather around.

Albert shrugged. “I already checked in with Crutch anyway. They don’t need me much.”

* * *

**_most likely to not be bailed_ **

_he wore a yoshi-inspired costume and got a standing ovation_

_see you back home_

* * *

****

**_Albert DaSilva_ **

_hey, race. sorry i had to leave early._

_see you around definitely._

* * *

Antonio Higgins didn’t get a standing ovation that day because he was the kind of participant who put on a show just for the humor. Just because he danced to a Super Mario song in a Yoshi-inspired costume. Anyone who doesn’t know him that much – the ones who don’t see how much work he puts in his dance – they would think that he doesn’t take things seriously. They would exactly be the ones to think that he would be the kind of student who would dance on that big stage in front of different departments just to make them laugh with a few silly moves.

It wasn’t even the simple Super Mario tune. It was an orchestra version that Albert didn’t recognize until two days later. Race had experimented with the lights and he put in a lot of thought for the background and the props. That was only saying it lightly. He was hardworking and a lot of people used to think otherwise.

Albert remembers him flying across the stage and he had thought to himself that Race belonged there.

* * *

Crutchie throws an arm around his shoulders and steers him to the opposite direction of the path he always takes to head to the library. Albert should have expected it after missing two classes the past week. Crutchie doesn’t press him about it even though it looks like he already made the connections after finding out that an old classmate of Albert is teaching in the center and said bestfriend continued to stay as far away as he can from the place.

Crutchie is good at that.

They reach the center talking about anything but the reason why Albert has been dodgy. Crutchie signs on the log book, takes the key and heads straight to their classroom. Albert knows he’s being stupid but he tries not to feel tense about the possibility of bumping into Race. He tries not to walk past the dance studio with a faster pace than he usually takes.

“We’re in an au, Al,” said Crutchie as he set his bag down on the table.

Albert pulled out a chair to sit on. “What?”

“We’re not sailing in the ocean,” replied Crutchie. “The kids liked the idea of a ship out in space.”

“Are we in gear?” asked Albert. “You know, all the oxygen and protection stuff?”

“Nope. Kids have ruled that we don’t need them because you can breathe in space. We’re still pirates but again, in space.”

“I’m sorry, I completely missed that. Where again?”

“That’s funny. You should know that Red is being held captive in a planet after he fell off the ship.”

Albert could only groan and accept his fate. How can one even fall off a ship in space? Won’t he just float?

Soon enough, their students started coming in one by one. Michael was first, ever punctual, then Sean, Samantha, and lastly, Louis. The kids asked Albert several times where he went off to as they were getting ready for class. He only said the truth: he was in the library. They asked why and he only said the truth, the half of it anyway: he was working. The other half won’t be discussed because he thought it was not really that important.

He made sure not to look at Crutchie because he’s sure that his friend is glaring a hole at the back of his head.

“Can I read what I wrote last night?” asked Michael.

“Go on, quartermaster,” encouraged Crutchie.

The only assignment the kids ever have is their journal. It’s not really an assignment because Crutchie doesn’t require it and he never actually grades anything. In their first class, he had mentioned offhandedly how they could write on journals everyday about anything and share them with everyone. The next meeting, all four of the students brought notebooks specifically for their entries and either they took turns reading them or only those who volunteered went. Crutchie and Albert always gave advices and voiced their thoughts and the children were more than happy to learn from them.

Albert hopes the kids are not learning much from _him_. He would probably end up forming a group with them tackling conspiracies.

Michael was telling the story of how he and his mother tried to catch fireflies last night in their backyard when Albert heard the door behind him open. It wasn’t loud enough to interrupt Michael and none of the kids turned to look but Albert does because they rarely get visitors who drop by to observe.

He immediately thinks that it’s stupid that he had to rein himself in and try to look calm when he saw who entered.

He _did_ assure Race that they will _definitely_ see each other around.

“You’re here,” whispered Race as he sat beside Albert.

Albert thinks he should be the one saying that but instead he goes for, “Yeah, the library wasn’t really busy today so I thought I’d come.” As if the library really gets busy to the point where all the staff has to come. If Race doesn’t buy into that, he doesn’t show it.

“Crutch told me about it,” Race says. “I’ve been coming in since the day we saw each other outside.”

Ah.

“Did you catch up?” asked Albert.

They weren’t that close – Crutchie and Race, that is – back in college. It wasn’t like they hung out on a daily basis. They were more like acquaintances. It was always small talk when Crutchie would drop by the Performing Arts building and he had to wait for a while for Albert to finish packing up and Race has always been the friendly kind.

“Yeah,” replied Race. “He introduced me to the kids, actually, then we went out for drinks the other day.”

Albert’s first thought was that Crutchie never told him that he and Race talked over drinks. His second thought was that what Race said sounded like he has been introduced to the children of a single parent (Crutchie) and then they went out for their date night. He made a mental note to share that with Crutchie later.

“That’s nice,” he remarked. “Sorry I wasn’t around, by the way, but it was great seeing you again.”

“It’s okay,” said Race. “You were busy.”

“Right. Well, are you free later?”

“Definitely.”

 _Definitely._ When has that word failed? Apparently, it works when he _doesn’t_ want it to work. Truth to be told, Albert thought that it would seem suspicious now if he refused or bailed out on another invitation to catch up, should Race ask first. He knows it will happen eventually and he’s sure that Crutchie would have done it anyway after class ends. Besides, Race looks glad.

“Crutch, we have two boat swans now!”

The two turned to the class. All the kids are now caught up in excited chatter, talking about having a complete crew. Race laughed and Albert met Crutchie’s gaze and he looks equal parts of amused and smug. Why? He feels like he knows but it’s not like he will acknowledge it out loud.

“Boatswains,” he murmured.

* * *

“We toured around America, Europe, and Asia.”

If things didn’t turn out the way they did, Albert would have been included in the ‘we’.

“How was it?” he asked.

Race had been hesitant when the topic was broached but he was good at masking it. Maybe he wasn’t hesitant at all and Albert only thought otherwise because he has just gotten used to other people walking on eggshells around him when they talk about dance.

“It was fun,” said Race. “Kind of like a long roadtrip but there’s just dancing involved. There were more who joined us along the way and the schedules and practices were hectic and strict but that was always a given.”

Crutchie put down his glass. “What did you do after?”

“Taught classes. Elmer opened up his own studio and he needed people. I’ve been teaching ever since.”

Albert thought that Race would continue training. He thought that he would be recruited by known people because back then, Race would be the one to subtly look at the audience, trying to find the recruiters, the representatives of big companies who are looking for potential performers. Sure, watching out for them didn’t guarantee a place but Race was _hardworking_. He was not just good. He excelled at everything and everyone knew it. He looked out at the audience at every event and Albert always saw how he would take in a deep breath, shake his hands, stand a little taller and give his all. He sometimes wondered if it became too much for him. 

But Race is right in front of him now and he’s smiling, bright and genuine. Albert thinks that this is what he remembers Antonio Higgins for.

They eat and talk. They drink and talk. Sometime in the evening, they had to stop because Crutchie is a lightweight and Albert did not want to drag him home.

Race stands with them on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab and he talks about the classes he has taught with Elmer and the other instructors. He talks about how he led a Zumba class for adults and another for the elderly. He talks about the dance studio at the community center and how there’s not much space but they make it work. It’s funny because they are underneath a lamppost and the way the light glows down on Race makes him more animated.

Albert has let two empty cabs pass by and just listens to him while Crutchie leans against his side.

All the talk about dancing should have him making excuses to get home but at some point in the evening, his chest seemed to stop constricting until it settled into something close to resignation.

And it’s heavy. He stays, though.

When Albert finally hails a cab, Race helps him get a swaying Crutchie inside and he thanks the two for having dinner with him and that it was nice to see old friends again. Albert gets inside as well and tells the driver their destination. He looks out the window and sees Race, smiling with his hands inside the pockets of his jackets, light still glowing down on him as if he’s a beacon in the otherwise dim street. Albert thinks there’s a poem to be written about it.

Race raises a hand to wave goodbye as the car finally moves. Albert smiles at him.

Much later in his bed with Crutchie asleep in the next room, he curls in on himself as he reads Race’s text, apologizing for talking so much and he thinks he remembers him like that.

They walked around one time together after their classes and eating so much from a food truck outside the university. They stayed out until the early hours of the morning and it was far from what Albert was expecting because he sucked so much at conversations but he found himself asking question after question and answering Race’s equally many ones. They both had plenty of stories to tell. They had jokes to share and smiles to exchange and songs to dance to underneath lampposts, pretending that they are their own spotlights.

When they finally parted ways, Race texted him to apologize for talking so much and all Albert could think was that he liked hearing him talk. He didn’t say that but he told him that he didn’t mind and he hoped that they could hang out again.

Race had texted: _would really like that._

Now, Albert wonders if it would turn out just like that again if he would say the same thing.

He wonders if they would follow the same trail of conversation. He wonders if Race remembers but he doesn’t try to find out. He shoves his phone under his pillow and thinks about going to Crutchie’s room even though his roommate is practically dead to the world.

At this rate, he feels like he should be given an award for all the things he has turned away from. It’s funny because he could keep on doing that but they won’t disappear.

* * *

“You didn’t tell me that you and Race went out for drinks.”

Crutchie shrugged. “Well, we talked about you so I thought the whole going out for drinks to discuss you should be kept a secret.”

A choking sound came from across the little table as well as a couple of thumps on the chest. Crutchie took a bite of his sandwich and watched Albert try to get ahold of himself.

“It wasn’t all about you,” he continued. “It wasn’t even intended and Racetrack didn’t even seem to notice that the talk would eventually lead to you but you were like the highlight of the night.”

“Why?” asked Albert, confused.

“Because you’re important. People highlight important stuff.”

Albert groaned. “I told you to stop using the things you read online in real life, Crutch. Did you hear yourself say that just now?”

“I did, thank you very much. I’m not taking back what I said about you being important.”

“Stop. Just stop that.”

That was that.

It wasn’t until later that Albert was in his room, lounging on his bed when Crutchie came in and settled beside him. Sharing spaces was never really a problem between them. It was something they had done since they were little. Albert used to go straight to Crutchie’s next door after dance classes because he knows he would come home to no one in his own house. If there was, there would only be the usual drawl about the importance of his future and how he should do better and better until it was all he knew.

Apparently, hiding out in Crutchie’s bed didn’t completely ward that off but at that time, having someone there helped him.

It still does so he makes room for Crutchie to lay against the pillows and he sighs at how familiar it is. They stay in comfortable silence for a while until it is broken by a shout from outside. It sounded frustrated and not really unusual. They heard more concerning and questionable ones.

“You looked shocked earlier about the whole Race thing,” spoke Crutchie.

“Just caught off guard, I guess,” shrugged Albert. “We never really kept in touch and it’s been almost two years.”

“Still, you were close.”

“Not that close. We both majored in the same course.”

Crutchie hummed. “You really liked him back then.”

Albert doesn’t say anything for a moment. It felt like he has been caught even though Crutchie knows because he just does. He has never admitted it to anyone before but Crutchie used to tease him.

“I did,” mumbled Albert.

“And he really liked you too.”

He thinks back to that one night of dancing underneath lampposts and how it eventually turned into various forms. Suddenly, they were sitting beside each other in every class they have together. Suddenly, they were waiting up for one another after practice. Suddenly, they were always the ones huddled together before every recital, whispering assurances that nothing bad will happen. Suddenly, there were soft smiles and gentle hugs and touches and Albert thinks that maybe they had the wrong timing. Maybe they weren’t meant to end up together after all.

“All in the past, Crutch.”

* * *

It was a month before they were going to graduate. It was a little less than a month before the showcase as well where representatives from big companies will scout for potential performers. Albert remembered where he was. He had gotten off the bus, bag heavy on his back or maybe he was really just that tired. He had come home to his parents for a day because they hosted a reunion party for all of their family and friends. Even people from their work were present.

Albert was asked to attend because he will soon be graduating. He was asked to come because he’s sure to be recruited by known people. He had to come home because his parents were very proud of him.

It’s what he told himself.

It’s what he has been telling himself for years because his parents are just all too eager to boast about how their son is the best in his class or how he’s the lead at every performance or how he may not be following the footsteps of his parents in the business industry but he’s already making a name for himself in the arts and entertainment.

He was in love with dancing.

He wanted to dance. He really did but somewhere down the line, he wasn’t supposed to want anything else anymore and it consumed him. He needed to do better and be better. It was a constant chant in his head that he began to believe it, making it harder to break away as the months passed by. Every time he tells Crutchie that he is going to give up dancing, he would then think he can hold on a little bit longer because maybe things will change and he will be okay in the end.

He will hold on just a little more because if he lets go, he thinks he might just crash hard.

The bus rode off and Albert began to walk towards the direction of the campus. He was thinking of calling his parents later to tell them he got to the university safely. He was thinking of stopping by the Performing Arts building and see if Race is there. Maybe they can drag Crutchie out of the library to eat. He smiles at that and he was taking out his phone from his pocket when he heard the screech of tires and people screaming and yelling.

A day later, he would find out that a driver lost control of the wheel and had gone off the road, barreling into the sidewalk. All he could remember was that everything happened quite quickly and even though he tried to jump out of the way as fast he could, it wasn’t enough. His leg was snagged.

A torn ACL.

He missed the showcase.

He got his diploma but missed the graduation. 

A surgical treatment.

Months to recover.

He could have gotten back up. After all, he recovered, didn’t he? But one day, he was able to walk properly again and he said to his parents he will not dance again.

Just like that.

* * *

He thought he has already crashed the moment he let go but he still feels like he’s suspended in the air, strings taut for far too long.

* * *

“Hey, Specs, teach me how to spin next time,” spoke Katherine.

Albert looked up from what he was writing on the logbook and sees Katherine, arms crossed and leaning on the desk, discussing with someone how the most she could do is an awkward tumble. Specs, who Albert knows to be one of the instructors at the dance class, seems like he agrees with Katherine.

“Don’t worry, Kath,” he says. “We’re going to work on your balance then you’ll be a dancer in no time.”

“That’s funny,” ponders Katherine. “My life coach told me that I should work on my balance but I’ve been spiraling into a crisis for years now.”

Specs looks concerned. To be honest, Albert feels the same but Katherine looks unaffected. He turns back to the logbook and finishes signing beside his name.

“Hey, Albert,” called Specs. “Racer is still in the studio if you wanted to see him.”

He looks back up again to say that he _wasn’t_ looking for Race but Specs was already walking away, waving goodbye at him and Katherine.

No, he’s not looking for Race. He didn’t even ask about him earlier. He hasn’t asked anyone about him in the past few weeks they are both in the center. Sure, they saw each other in the hallways and sometimes Race would sit in with the writing class, put on some ridiculous hat and get into his role quite devotedly or he would just sit in the back with Albert, writing on a piece of paper as if he’s still at school, passing notes to Albert.

No, he’s not looking for Race. He just passes by the studio and knows that he is there because of his voice. There are days when he leaves earlier than Crutchie and Race would catch him by the front desk and they decide to eat out together. Sometimes, they send each other ridiculous memes in the middle of the night. Sometimes, they will arrive at the center at the same time and they stall outside the studio, talking about the most mundane things.

Race doesn’t ask him to come with him inside the studio. Albert doesn’t try to take a peek inside.

“Are you going in?” asked Katherine.

No, he’s not looking for Race.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m just going to see if he wants to eat.”

He’s already walking towards the studio as he answers and he wishes someone would tackle him to the ground, pull him back to his senses.

He hears the muffled music and he knocks.

No answer.

He tries again, louder, and thinks he should go now.

The music is cut off and Race calls out that the door is open.

Albert’s taking too long. He hears Katherine clicking away on the computer at the front desk and he hears the distant chatters of the people around the center. He’s starting to regret not leaving with Crutchie earlier because what was he even staying for in the center. He’s only a volunteer from the library. He’s not even a teacher.

He should have left. He should leave.

He opens the door and the first thing he sees is the wooden floor and then the mirrors. Race was sitting in the middle of the room, legs outstretched in front of him and the remote of the speaker in his hand. Albert catches the confused look on his face before it is replaced by a smile. 

Albert thinks he remembers him like that and he is overwhelmed by the familiarity of it that he steps inside and closes the door behind him. It’s a surprise that he didn’t falter and that he walked quite calmly towards Race and sat down beside him, facing the mirror and he sees them two side by side.

“I was wondering who was out there,” spoke Race, softly.

Albert had to clear his throat to get the words out. “Specs told me you were here.”

“I was just practicing old routines.”

“Do you remember your routine from junior year?”

“What, Yoshi entering the castle?”

“You should recreate that. Upload it on Youtube or something.”

Race shook his head. “Who would watch that?”

Albert would.

“Who could not watch you dance, Race?”

“I could name at least five people who would prefer not to see me dance.”

“Those jerks back in college were mad anything you did!”

Race erupted into a laughing fit and it took only a few seconds for Albert’s pent-up irritation from the past to dissipate before he is smiling. They inch closer to one another, shoulders brushing as they laugh together. Albert reckons that the other is remembering moments as well from when they were in college and students from their year, and even from the upper ones would pick on anyone as if they were in some teen movie. And so they burst out even more, recounting incidents that they have witnessed and even experienced in their four years of studying dance. At one point, they fall to the floor together, staring up at the ceiling, glancing at each other and hands occasionally brushing when they gesture or move.

_(Two years ago, Crutchie once said: “Just hold hands and end everyone’s misery, will you?”)_

They settle down after a while, closer than they were before. Albert could feel Race trying to calm his breathing from all their laughing and ranting. He realizes that he’s doing the same as well and he stares pointedly at the ceiling, trying not to think so much of how he feels like he had just danced, like he finished a routine and all the aching and straining are finally catching up with his body.

He closes his eyes.

“You’re beautiful when you dance, Tonio,” he says.

_(“I look like a flailing noodle. Do you think I should do something with my hair? Try to lessen the noodle characteristics?”_

_“What are you even saying? You do look like a noodle but you’re not going to be flailing on stage. You’re beautiful when you dance, Tonio.”)_

He feels Race move.

“Watch me dance, Albie?”

_(A soft smile. “Yeah? Will you watch me dance then, Albie?”)_

Albert opens his eyes and sees Race, propped up on one elbow. There’s the soft smile, the kind that you saw even in their eyes. The kind that Albert scoffed at and turned away from because he always felt like he will buckle under the weight of it. This time, he doesn’t look at anywhere else. He doesn’t scoff or push Race’s face away from him and comment about the importance of personal space. 

He recognizes the familiarity of that smile and doesn’t buckle under the weight of it. He lets it settle over him and if he feels guilty, if the guilt is clawing at the corners of his mind, he will just tune that out for the time being.

“Go on then,” he mumbles and smiles as he adds: “Noodle boy.”

Race grins and moves away from Albert, getting up to his feet and snatching the remote from the floor. Albert pulls himself up to a sitting position and crawls to a corner, pressing against the wall as the music starts and it changes to different tracks until Race finally seems to find what he’s looking for and slides the remote to the front.

There’s barely even time to prepare for his position before the song begins and then he’s dancing, laughing at his late start. He eventually catches up.

 _He dances differently now_ , Albert thinks, but then he sees the way Race reaches out to the vast space around him and he remembers the times he has watched the other dance in the studio and on the stage. He realizes it’s not different. Instead, it’s clearer.

It’s more defined, like a shape is being filled with colors and its lines are being emphasized. It’s as if he has brought to life the form that his body has been drawing. He sweeps across the room. He lands on his feet, his hands, his back and he gets up with desperation and grace. He gets up and all Albert could remember is the reason why he hasn’t talked to Race for almost two years ever since he got into the accident.

When Albert gave up on dancing, he thought he had to let go of everything that it is tied with. He hadn’t meant for the drift between him and his parents to become wider but it did and they barely contact him anymore except to just basically check if he is still alive. He had refused the opportunity that a dance company gave him while he was still recovering. He had stopped answering to emails from his instructors asking if he would still like to go back to training. He let multiple opportunities to teach pass him by. He wanted to leave that whole life behind.

_(“Does that include me?”)_

Albert remembers saying sorry and Race had smiled like he understood.

Hands settle on his arms until they slide down to his wrists and then he’s being gently pulled up.

“Race,” he starts to say but a new song is starting and it was like getting the wind knocked out of him.

It was the song he was supposed to dance to in the showcase he missed. It was the last song he had danced to and he tenses because realizes he still knows the first move. He knows how he is supposed to start and he knows what will follow. He remembers that he slipped and fell on his backside the first time he tried the hardest part of the routine. Race had laughed at him then. He knows the routine. He has practiced it with him and Albert wants to ask why he has the song with him.

Does he want him to dance?

Does he know that he never went back?

“What are you doing?” he asks, stiffly. “Turn that thing off.”

It felt like his limbs were locking because something in him, that one thing that never left, was coursing through him, asking him to just let go. It was like when he was still little and it was his first time to try a backflip and he stood in the middle of the room with his teacher and parents watching from the corner. He kept on thinking to just do it and it felt like his body was ready to move but he was just so _scared._

He’s scared that he’ll break now.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

Race cups his face and his thumbs wipe under his eyes. He’s crying.

“Stop punishing yourself, will you?” Race scolds lightly. “I know dancing has been a part of you for a very long time. It must have been difficult to let it go but you did. Hey, look at me.”

Albert sighed, shaky as he tried to keep at bay the next set of tears threatening to escape.

“You needed to, Albie. You had to give it up because it was becoming something that you know would have destroyed you eventually. You were burning out. You knew it and you would have kept going. You needed to breathe and that was okay. It was okay you had to let go.”

 _It doesn’t feel like it_ , Albert wanted to say.

What he feels is that he made a mistake that he wants to correct but he’s too much of a coward to do so. What he feels is that maybe he will come back again, that he will stand on stage or in a practice room and he will realize that he will never catch up. All those years of training were for nothing. Maybe the passion he bore was only a pretend, a mask to wear to convince himself that he’s going somewhere with his life.

What he feels is that his strings have already been breaking one by one from being pulled for so long but he’s still tying them again and again.

“Stop punishing yourself. You should never feel guilty for trying your best to keep on going and giving it up in the end because it was breaking you.”

He can’t really see anymore because of the surge of tears but he feels arms wrapping around him and he hears the sob that comes out of him.

_(His mother could not grasp what he was saying. “Sweetheart, you’re fine again. You recovered. What do you mean you’re not going back to dancing? It’s your whole life.”_

_His father could only remind him of what they’ve done for their son to reach his reputation, as if it was not a product of his determination to succeed. As if dancing wasn’t his dream since he was young but was marred as he grew older. As if he didn’t love it enough that he was ready to give it all up._

_“You’re destroying your life, Albert.”_

_And it’s not true. It’s not true. It’s what Albert told himself repeatedly.)_

“That’s brave, Albie. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. What you did was brave. Even if you can’t see it now, you still got back up after everything and that’s still brave. If you don’t want to dance again, there’s nothing wrong with that. You force yourself to do it, you’ll be back to square one. You can’t be like your parents. They’re the worst, by the way. I’m not going to apologize for saying that.”

Albert chokes out a laugh as he holds on tightly to Race.

“And if I dance again?” he hiccups.

It takes a moment before Race answers and when he does, it’s gentle. “Then it will happen. When it does, Crutchie will be there. Your band of pirates will be there.”

Another laugh and it comes easier this time. Their grip on each other loosens but they don’t let go as they stay in silence for a moment. The speaker is still playing some music and Albert doesn’t recognize it but it was soothing enough to help him calm down. Soon enough, the tears don’t pour out as much as they did earlier and he feels a little bit lighter. He knows it might not last. He knows that he may feel like a mess again and maybe it will happen a few more times. He’s sure that there is more to be talked about. Even though the idea is far-fetched, he hopes that it will become easier. For now, he holds on to what he has now.

“I’ll be there to watch you,” murmurs Race.

It’s quiet but Albert hears the words clearly and he lets himself sag just a little bit against Race. Race, in turn, pulls him closer. 

* * *

**_The Highlighter_ **

_come to class next time. URGENT._

**_TO BE HIGHLIGHTED_ **

_STOP WITH THE NAMES_

**_YOU’RE GETTING KICKED OUT_ **

_Ha_

_you think that’s funny_

_kick me out of my own apartment??_

**_irrelevant_ **

_????_

_OUR apartment actually_

_how am I irrelevant?_

**_your landlord_ **

_not getting highlighted anymore_

_BACK TO THE TOPIC_

_after you disrespected me_

_class next time. It’s coming to an end. kids are going to leave soon._

_get the crew together_

_i mean. we have two boatswains anyway_

_if you don’t come race is going to be there_

**_tenant_ **

_please i’m like the senior boatswan_

_*boatswain_

_you were a boatswan too_

_*BOTSWAIN_

_*BOATSWAIN_

**_#1 on blocklist_ **

_look at me being promoted to gunner_

_as if you can block me_

_i’ll stop with the names if you come_

**_albert, beloved roommate_ **

_fine_

**_shut up crutch_ **

_yey_

_also_

**_BOAT SWAN_ **

_have fun picking up your clothes on the street_

* * *

Crutchie loved talking about how a story can be a whole other world. Today, they all laid down on the floor, hats tossed aside. They turned the lights off and played the three-hour-loop of waves crashing. It’s their last class and Crutchie made sure it would be memorable for the kids. He _hoped_ it would be memorable and Albert only kept telling him that it will be. They had visitors but the kids immediately declared them as part of the crew.

Specs wasn’t teaching a class for the day but he still came and even taught the kids several things about sailing which he learned when he was still living in Key West. Katherine got someone to cover her shift so she could join and has gone over the pieces the class have been writing for the past several weeks. Race was also present because he just is.

They borrowed what they suspect is the most expensive projector the center has and prayed that they wouldn’t damage it. It’s a surprise that they even have a star projector in the first place.

“We’re at land,” came Sean’s voice, small and quiet.

Albert felt sad upon hearing it because he will miss the kids and their never-ending curiosity and dedication to create their own stories. He knows that Crutchie is feeling equal parts of sadness and pride for his class.

“We’ll set sail soon,” spoke Crutchie, just as quiet. “We’re just resting.”

“Finding all that treasure was tiring,” added Specs. “Besides, the diversion we created must have Captain Weasel and his crew sailing towards the wrong island.”

“Plus the traps we set,” piped in Michael.

Katherine hummed. “It’ll be months before Weasel gets here. You had such a nice adventure.”

Their adventure led them in an unknown place, completely off the map, and it’s like an island that glimmered. It wasn’t because of all the treasure but it’s because of the stars that surrounded them, twinkling and happy that they have been found.

Albert wanted to remember it like that.

“Crutchie?” called Samantha.

There was a rustle. “What is it, Smalls?”

“Where do we go next?”

Another rustle and this time, it was Louis who spoke up. “We have to go back to space! There’s so many stars we have to reach.”

“Wormholes!”

And that spurred on a plan. It meant that the kids will surely write about their next adventure. Albert laid there to take it all in, happy that he didn’t miss the last class and that he got to help Crutchie encourage four kids cherish their interests. If he’s feeling proud of them, he couldn’t imagine what his bestfriend must be like internally.

He feels at peace. It’s one of the moments where it happens. It cannot be compared to the times where he would stay in at the apartment and just lounge around. It’s not like finally getting to rest after such a long day because he does get them frequently anyway and he knows that the first thing he would probably do when they arrive home is black out in his bed. No, he thinks it’s like getting a complicated move right and he would let himself fall to the floor, completely spent but relieved that he accomplished something. It’s like going to the park with Crutchie so early in the morning that everything is quiet and they get to relish that. It’s like having a good laugh and then there’s just comfortable silence and there are still remnants of a smile on everyone’s faces.

It’s like being in another world surrounded by stars and knowing that he’ll be able to look back on that memory with a warm feeling. 

“They look like fireflies, don’t they?”

He feels a hand cover his and Albert doesn’t think twice to turn his palm upwards and let his fingers intertwine with the other’s. He turns his head to the side and finds that Race is already looking at him. There’s the soft smile, bright and genuine in its own way. Like the last time, Albert lets it settle over him and guilt doesn’t claw at him. It has dissipated as the days passed by and in its place bloomed something else. Something familiar. He lets it grow slowly.

Race looks away first but doesn’t let go.

Albert glances back up at the stars and thinks that they do look like fireflies.

He feels warm.

* * *

Specs is the one who sees him waiting outside Elmer’s dance studio for what must be the seventh time in the span of three months. The other times, Albert _does_ come inside and watch.

“Racer is still inside,” said Specs, somewhat smug. “If you’re looking for him.”

Yes, Albert is looking for him.

 _Character development_ , he thought.

“I’ll wait out here,” he said.

“It’s a date night then,” mused Specs, slinging his bag on his shoulder.

Albert groaned. “You’ve been talking too much with Crutchie.”

“He’s a good source, that’s why I rely on him so much.”

“You’re second on the blocklist, Specs.”

“Elmer’s aiming for third, by the way.”

Specs leaves, looking like he’s one second away from unlocking his phone to send a text to their wretched groupchat. Albert decides to just be quicker this time.

**_sunshine_ **

_it’s not date night_

He swears he hears Specs laugh even though he’s far away now.

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_oh?_

****

**_plum_ **

_I have superpowers you know_

_I can sense long-distance lies_

_Funny_

_I’m sensing one now :))))))_

**_spec gadget_ **

_HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAH_

**_glue (like elmer’s glue. Get it?)_ **

_r u at the studio albo?_

_Also someone think of a cooler name for me_

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_where else would he be?_

**_sunshine_ **

_youre all on the blocklist_

_never leaving the blocklist_

**_glue (like elmer’s glue. Get it?)_ **

_at this point ur blocking everyone_

_the only person youre gonna be talking to is race_

**_plum_ **

_That’s very sweet_

_Very romantic_

**_spec gadget_ **

_didn’t really think this through did you???_

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_HAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHA_

_WHAT A NIGHT_

**_SPEED RACER (change this as much as u want race but im still going to change it back to ur superior name so suffer)_ **

_stop having fun without me :(((((((_

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_time to go_

_we should go to our other groupchat now_

**_sunshine_ **

_you have another groupchat?_

**_glue (like elmer’s glue. Get it?)_ **

_we need a space where we can talk about u 2_

**_spec gadget_ **

_no blocking allowed there_

**_plum_ **

_You wouldn’t last five minutes there albert._

**_SPEED RACER (change this as much as u want race but im still going to change it back to ur superior name so suffer)_ **

_Would u block me albo?_

**_sunshine_ **

_yes_

****

**_SPEED RACER (change this as much as u want race but im still going to change it back to ur superior name so suffer)_ **

_ouch ?_

**_plum_ **

_Senses tingling_

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_listen to the one with the powers_

**_SPEED RACER (change this as much as u want race but im still going to change it back to ur superior name so suffer)_ **

_Ohhh???_

**_sunshine_ **

_the power to leave the front of the studio right now without you_

**_SPEED RACER (change this as much as u want race but im still going to change it back to ur superior name so suffer)_ **

_WAIT NO_

**_spec gadget_ **

_do you know what I think?_

**_glue (like elmer’s glue. Get it?)_ **

_think we’re all on the same page_

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_it’s the telepathy_

**_plum_ **

_RACE IS WHIPPED_

**_sunshine_ **

_not_

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_says the one still waiting for race_

_whipped pt. 2_

**_sunshine_ **

_no_

**_spec gadget_ **

_the way I had to stop walking for a sec to witness this glorious moment_

**_glue (like elmer’s glue. Get it?)_ **

_we collectively the whipped pt. 3_

“They’re not wrong anyway.”

He almost dropped his phone as he startled. He turned and saw Race, seemingly pleased with himself for scaring the living daylights out of the other.

“I’d block you in real life,” gritted out Albert.

“Kath’s senses must be on overload right now,” said Race.

“Invoking the power to leave now.”

Even though he’s well aware that there’s already a smile on his face, he still turns away and starts to walk. He hears Race laugh behind him and then a hand is tugging at his until he’s being pulled back and facing the opposite direction of where he was supposed to go.

“Food is this way, sunshine,” pointed out Race.

Damn that name.

“Do I look like the epitome of a sunshine?” he demanded but it sounded weak in his ears. 

“I mean,” replied Race, shrugging. “Crutchie gave you the name to spite you or something. It sounds like him but I think I’m starting to see why it fits you.”

He had to laugh, head throwing back. It sounded ridiculous. It took a moment before he settled down and realized that Race is smiling at him.

“There it is,” he said.

This time, he felt the urge to push the other’s face away but he realized that Race is still holding his hand. Albert _can_ push him away but then Race will just pull him along with the force of it.

“Food,” he managed to say. “We’re getting food.”

Race lets out a laugh under his breath, pulling Albert close as they resume their walk.

* * *

**_your support, your crutch_ **

_bastards always leaving in the middle of a conversation_

* * *

Dinner was a casual affair, opting for burritos and eating them at a quiet spot in the park. They talk about their days and Albert recounts how Samantha visited the library with her brother. She showed the story she has been working on ever since classes at the community center ended. Race, in turn, told him about Romeo, the new instructor Elmer invited to the studio and how he’s fitting in quite well with everyone.

Albert thinks it’s nice that they can talk so comfortably with one another, that he’s actually talking to someone who is not Crutchie. Character development, he believes and he ponders over how withdrawn he was three months ago and the time before that. He’s not going to say that it was all because of Race’s doing because he has learned not to be so dependent on a person but he thinks that the other has helped him greatly. It shows and he wants him to know that he’s getting better.

They are walking around again after eating (probably because neither of them wants to go to their respective homes yet but then again, they won’t acknowledge it out loud) when Albert steels himself and looks at Race.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” he says and realizes that he shouldn’t have paused to let Race react because his reaction is the complete opposite of what he was hoping for.

Race stopped walking and his mouth is slightly agape as if he doesn’t know what words he should settle with.

“Oh,” he utters.

Albert backtracks quickly in his mind when he mulled over his words.

“Like a therapist,” he says. “No, not like. A therapist. I’m seeing a therapist. I’m not seeing someone like _someone._ ”

If their whole situation was to happen in the groupchat, the other three would be having the time of their lives. Albert even imagines Crutchie in the room next to his, busting a lung.

“We’re pretending that _that_ didn’t happen,” he said.

“Definitely,” agreed Race. “What were we even talking about?”

“I’ve been going to therapy for the past two weeks now.”

“Really?”

Albert starts walking again so as to have something else to focus on if he’s going to talk. Race follows.

“Yeah,” he continued. “It’s actually a group therapy. Kath told me about it because it’s at the community center. I realized that I should really start to work on myself more and try not to keep things in because it’s doing me more harm than good. I don’t want to affect others with that. It’s nice that you’re all here but I just thought it would be… easier or something if I seek out professional help. Not that it’s difficult talking with you but sometimes I just feel like it’s a burden and that’s the part that makes it harder. Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m working on getting better.”

He puffed out a breath after he finished and because he didn’t want to seem small, he glanced at Race.

“I’m proud of you,” is what Race says.

He lets out another breath.

“I understand what you’re saying and I’m not offended. I’m happy that you’re doing this and I support you. I know that the others will also, if they don’t already know except for Kath, obviously. I’m just… really proud of you, Albie.”

It’s a gradual process.

Albert will continue to go to therapy. He will seek the help he needs but there will be the bad days. He will retreat into himself, pulling at the strings to tie them again. He will try hard not to show it. Crutchie will see through it. Race will see through it. Others will. And they try to help. Some days he feels guilty and some days he will tune it away long enough to stay in an embrace, grounded by the feeling of having to hold on to someone. He will have good days too. There are times when he will sit in at the dance studio, listen to the music and watch people dance. Those are the good days when he won’t feel sick and leave.

He will often think of how he’s lucky that he has such good people around him and how he wants to be like that for them too. He will see their little pirates once in a while in the library and they will tell him their stories. He will go to a show Race was casted as a lead in and he will stand up and cheer for him along with their friends when the performance ends. They will share a hug backstage and he will think that Race still dances beautifully.

There will come the day when he will look to his side and say: _“Watch me dance?”_

And Race will smile – that soft smile that settles over him – and he will pull Albert up to his feet.

 _“Go on then, sunshine_ ,” is what he will say.

And Albert will dance. It won’t be easy. It won’t be smooth. He will stumble over his feet, attempt to do the complicated parts several times, and Race will have to dance with him, flailing around just to make him laugh. It will work. Most of all, he will just follow the music. He will let his every move break the circles his life has ran around in for the past years, dragging the lines until they create their own forms.

He will remember that day at the room full of stars and feel warm at the thought that all those twinkling lights did look like fireflies, dancing in the dark and gravitating towards one another

It’s a gradual process, one that he hopes will be something he can look back on but for now – well, they’re standing a little bit away from underneath a lamppost and Albert smiles at the familiarity of it, of who he is with.

He takes a step closer and Race meets him halfway.

Albert remembers that they used to skirt around one another before. They jerked back when they realized they have been holding on for too long. Hugs didn’t last even though they were warm. They looked away too quickly before they could meet each other’s eyes. He remembers being called ‘stupid’ by Crutchie.

He thinks he doesn’t remember them like this: Race’s hands cupping the side of his face as he presses their lips together.

Or this: Albert’s arms slipping around Race’s waist as he holds him close.

Or this: Race pulling back just the slightest bit that their foreheads are still touching. They feel the slight puffs of breath from each other as their lips brush because they’re swaying on their feet, somehow feeling imbalanced. They kiss again, chaste, because they can’t keep the smiles off of their faces.

It’s a dance of different sorts and he lets go.

Albert doesn’t crash down hard.

He’s sure he will remember this now.


End file.
